Unseen Killer
by freakanature06
Summary: Matthew Williams is a high school student who is completely unsatisfied with his life as an invisible observer. His life changes completely when he happens upon an odd, black notebook that has a strange power... Canada and the Death Note. T to be safe.
1. Discovery

_A/N: This is a request that I found on the Hetalia kink meme some LONG time ago and am just now getting around to filling. Hopefully, it'll turn out to be something epic (unless I fail miserably, of course XD), but it will take a while to finish either way. Extra special thanks goes out to my Canada, who sat through a screen-sharing with me in order to let me know when I was screwing up like crazy. _

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Neither Hetalia nor Death Note. I do not even own the title of this story, because my Canada came up with it. XD**

Chapter 1 - Discovery

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Matthew Williams sat in his seat, staring at the chalkboard at the front of the room. The objectives of the day were written, along with a single sentence that set the Canadian teenager's teeth on edge.

'Matthew - see me after class about your absences.'

The thing was… Matthew hadn't missed a single class all year. And this wasn't the first time this had happened, nor the first teacher that had done this to him. Matthew was an easily overlooked individual, and despite his best efforts he remained so. Sometimes, he was mistaken for his half-brother - who he was almost identical to - but very rarely was he recognized as himself. IT was an unfortunate part of his life that he hated more than anything else.

As if to add insult to injury, Matthew then heard one of the students near him - Arthur Kirkland, a British boy - commenting on the note.

"Matthew? Is there a new kid then?"

Grimacing, Matthew slammed his books on his desk. Everyone jumped, but no one seemed to see him. "_I'm_ Matthew," he announced irritably. However, his voice was quiet and easily drowned out by the babble of other voices. With another sigh, the poor boy let his head smash into his books, trying to determine how to convince the teacher that he had been here every day and not absent.

It was at about this point that the boy who always seemed to mistake him for his brother showed up and hit him upside the head.

"What the hell, Alfred?" he demanded as Matthew let out a yelp. "You destroyed my bike!"

"I'm not…" Matthew began to protest, but then the teacher walked in and the dark-skinned boy moved off to his own seat, promising a beating for "Alfred" later.

This was all part of a typical day for Matthew Williams: be forgotten, get beaten up for something his brother did, and sometimes get sat on in class. He was used to it, really.

But that didn't mean he liked it at all.

Lately, Matthew had taken to thinking of suicide often. It would hurt his mother, he knew, but… well, he doubted anyone else would notice. But if they did, it would only show that it took that much to get their attention.

It was fortunate for the Canadian that he was terrified of dying.

So instead of taking his own life, Matthew started taking long walks by himself at night. Sometimes, he carried his stuffed polar bear, Kumajiro, with him because the doll was the only friend he had. But really, it was good to be alone because it was _his_ choice and not the choice of others.

It was during one of these walks that everything changed for him.

After barely managing to escape the beating that had been promised to him as "Alfred" - though only narrowly and merely because of the fact that the Cuban boy hadn't noticed him in the begonias - Matthew headed home. Except instead of taking the direct route that his half-brother typically took, Matthew headed down a lengthier, more scenic path that he had found some time ago. It allowed him time to think about the amazing things he would tell his mother about when he got home.

Matthew always felt better coming home to his mother with some tale about what had happened at school that day. Somehow, it didn't seem appropriate to just say, "Everyone ignored me again," and walk out. He wanted his mother to be happy. And part of her happiness weighed on his happiness.

About the time that Matthew realized this particular fact was when he started to take the long way home. Besides, it really was a nice walk. Calm, relaxing, and he could just spend time talking to Kumajiro, who he always managed to smuggle into school in his backpack. Not that anyone noticed him enough to make fun of him for having a stuffed animal anyway…

Matthew was idly musing about the fact that he could probably bring a bomb to school and nobody would notice when the crunching under his feet changed to a crackle for a single step. Blinking, he looked down to find that he had just stepped on a jet black notebook.

"Who would drop a notebook here," the confused Canadian wondered aloud, stooping to pick it up and flip through the pages in an attempt to find a name.

But there was absolutely nothing written on the book. No name, no address, not even any notes from a class or a lecture or something. Matthew flipped through the notebook a couple of times before deciding that, since obviously no one had any claim on it, he had just inherited a brand new notebook. Which was nice, since Alfred had an odd tendency of stealing all of his notebooks from him, thinking they were his…

Tucking the notebook into his backpack, Matthew tightened his grip on his stuffed polar bear and continued on his way home. "This is great, Kumajiro!" he said, his voice sounding much louder now that he was alone with his best friend than it ever did when he was around other people. "Maybe we can keep this one away from Al!"

The moment he opened the door, Matthew's mother's voice rang out from the kitchen. "Hey honey! How was school?" The fact that she didn't start the conversation with "which one?" meant that Alfred was already home. Great. Matthew wasn't sure he wanted to deal with his half-brother after what he had been threatened with at school today.

"Great, mom!" For some reason, it was always easy to fake an eager tone when he was talking to his mother. "I aced the pop quiz in history -" the teacher had forgotten to even give him the quiz "- and some friends asked me to ride bikes after school. It's why I'm so late." He always came up with a good reason for being home later than his brother.

"That's wonderful." Hearing footsteps coming up from the basement, Matthew suddenly made a mad dash for the stairs that led up to the second floor. His mother poked her head out of the kitchen as he ran past. She knew that her sons had some issues with each other, and it upset her, really it did. But they were teenagers and she knew that when they got older they would learn to appreciate each other for who they were. "Dinner will be ready in an hour," she called up after the elder of her sons.

Matthew simply waved in response, managing to make it into his room and lock the door just as Alfred started running up the stairs after him. Breathing a sigh of relief, Matthew collapsed onto his bed, hugging Kumajiro close. "That was a close one," he muttered to the bear, giving it a loving squeeze.

Dinner was a fairly typical even as well. Every time Matthew tried to say anything, Alfred was right there, talking over him. And even when the Canadian boy got mad and tried to call his half-brother out on damaging other people's bikes, Alfred suddenly decided he was full and got up and left without another word, leaving Matthew sputtering and fuming silently.

To distract himself from the shit-hole that was his life, Matthew threw himself into his studies the moment he was done eating. He actually enjoyed this part of his life. Because even if the teachers never really gave him full credit, he knew he had everything correct on tests. And it always seemed like he was a little closer to something special every time he learned a new fact. Pulling out his brand new notebook, Matthew began to jot down notes from his math book, solving the equations he couldn't do in his head on paper.

He didn't remember doing it, but - just like always - around four in the morning, Matthew's ability to stay awake finally gave out and he fell asleep on his desk, snoring on top of the now note-filled book.


	2. Descent

_A/N: Wow. XD This second chapter came out a lot quicker than I expected it to, honestly. As a note: Miguel Ramos is the name that I have chosen for Cuba, in case that didn't make sense in the first chapter. XD Also, it should be noted that Matthew DOES, in fact, have a mental disability. Once again, many thanks to my Canada for sitting through the writing of this with me. You're the most amazing person in the history of ever!_

**Disclaimer: Look, I know I don't own this. So... *beh* :-P**

Chapter 2 - Descent

The morning came much too quickly for Matthew's liking. Then again, it always came a little too quickly for his liking mostly because he always stayed up much later than he really should. And so the poor Canadian always managed to wake up just barely in time to grab a maple-flavored Pop Tart and run out of the house before he wound up late for school.

He never took the long way to school for this very reason. Which is how he managed to run into the very same kid who had been picking on him the day before - Miguel Ramos.

Really, Matthew didn't know before then that his nose could spew quite _that _much blood…

It was the first time he was late to class in his entire life, despite his tendency to oversleep in the mornings, and Matthew decided that it had to be the worst day ever. After a visit to the school nurse, he finally made his way to his first period class, just in time for the bell to ring. All he could do was stare in horror as the rest of the class filed out. He had missed first period completely. That had… never happened to him before. And just as he tried to approach the teacher to find out what had happened, the man just stood up and left! As if Matthew wasn't even there!

Second period was Home Economics, which Matthew was always grateful for. Still frazzled by his morning from hell, though, he managed to burn the pancakes he was trying to make for his breakfast. They did make him feel better, however, because once you douse something with maple syrup, it doesn't matter what it is - it just tastes like maple syrup.

His recently salvaged good mood was smashed to pieces by third period Gym class. Not only did he have to see Miguel in this class, but his half-brother - who was far superior in most physical endeavors - was also in the class, despite being a year younger than him. Twice, he was in danger of having his nose smashed in again - once because of Miguel, and the second time because somebody didn't see him and nearly elbowed him in the face - and had to watch Alfred get praised continuously by the coach for his excellent catches in the game of dodge ball they were playing.

Matthew didn't like dodge ball. Sure, nobody ever threw a ball at him, but his team never won. Because even if he was the last person standing, they always decided that the game was already over…

And then fourth period arrived. This was where it had all started the day before. The note on the board asking him to talk to the teacher was still there, though this time there was no one trying to figure out who Matthew was, which was a small improvement at the very least.

The Canadian had just pulled out his new notebook and flipped to a blank page when a pair of hands slammed onto the desk in front of him. Matthew whimpered slightly and looked up. There was Miguel again. It was like a routine, honestly. Alfred always did something to piss this guy off. Why couldn't he just leave things be for _once_?!

"What the hell? Were you wearing make-up earlier or somethin'? Your nose didn't even look bruised in gym!"

"I'm not… I'm not Alfred!" Matthew tried to sound as loud as he could, but for some reason his voice came out just as softly as it normally did. Miguel raised his eyebrow at the nearly silent response and looked like he was about to say something scathing when the teacher walked in and asked everyone to take their seats.

A seething anger had been building in the young Canadian all day, and this latest comparison to his half-brother just made him want to tear his hair out. But that would be rather difficult to explain to his mom, so Matthew settled for quietly beating his head against his desk for the first ten minutes or so of class. When he finally felt his frustration was taken out adequately, he looked up just in time to hear Miguel accusing him of disturbing his peace with the head-beating.

'_Oh, yeah, pay attention to me now, eh?'_ Matthew thought bitterly as the teacher chastised him. He made no move to defend himself. What was the point? He would be forgotten again in ten minutes anyway. Or less…

After that, Matthew was in no mood to pay attention to the boring lecture anymore. Something about Napoleon. He had read about it last night, anyway. Instead of taking notes, he busily began to doodle in his notebook.

At first the doodles were of little squiggles and lines that formed no actual patterns, but as he kept looking around the room and spotting Miguel sneering at him, Matthew's doodles took on a bit more purpose. He sketched a crude drawing of the bully that had been picking on him for such a long time now. Except, in his drawing, Miguel was dead, his eyes merely x's and his tongue sticking out from his mouth.

Matthew snickered quietly to himself, feeling that this was appropriate justice for what had been done to his nose, and penciled in "Miguel Ramos" at the bottom of the picture, with an arrow pointing towards the picture.

Satisfied, Matthew closed his notebook and got ready to put everything away to leave class. The sooner he got out, the sooner he could seclude himself in a corner of the cafeteria and eat his lunch in peace…

It was at this point that fate seemed to turn against him again though. Or perhaps it turned in his favor. He couldn't really tell right away. Because as Miguel went to stand up, his eyes suddenly went wide and he clutched at his arm. Instants later, he collapsed on the floor and the entire classroom descended into chaos.

It took about ten minutes for everything to calm down completely again, in which time Matthew wedged himself into a corner of the room so he wouldn't get trampled by all the people trying to make sure Miguel was alright. The teacher managed to get all the students to stay back and call the nurse's office. But by the time the nurse got to the classroom, it was already too late.

Miguel was dead.

They called the hospital then. They came with a body bag and took Miguel away. Everyone from the class was sent home after that, in order to appease parents who had gotten texts from their children about what had happened. Not a single one of them seemed to notice the teenager in the corner, staring wide-eyed at the very spot where Miguel had been lying.

"You killed him." The small voice came from Matthew's backpack and he looked back to it sharply, horrified.

"I… I didn't! I didn't mean to, I just… I…"

Matthew reached into his bag and pulled out the stuffed animal that was now talking to him, holding it close like it was his last lifeline. "You wanted him dead, so he died."

"But…!" Matthew's mind was spinning. It was just coincidence! It had to just be coincidence! "I've wanted that before! H-haven't I…?" It was the only line of defense he had left in his head. He had wanted people dead before, but they never died! So it must just be coincidence…

There were a few moments of silence, and Matthew was about to let his breath out in a sigh of relief. Then the voice came again.

"The notebook."

It was still sitting on Matthew's desk. He approached it cautiously and, with shaking hands, flipped it open to the page with the rough drawing of Miguel. "You wrote it in the notebook. So it happened."

His mouth went dry instantly, which was a good thing. Because if he had had the ability to at that moment, Matthew would have been screaming.


	3. Second

_A/N: Omg, it took me forever to update this. o_o... But! I finally have chapter three! Once again, thanks to my AMAZING CANADA, she is the best in the world! ON WITH THE CRAZY!_

**Disclaimer: I own literally nothing in this story. Not even Matthew's crazy...**

Chapter 3 - Second

Matthew had his mother call him in sick the next day - something he had never done. Even when he _was_ sick, Matthew didn't like missing school. It was too easy to miss the simplest things if he wasn't there, and while no one would miss _him_, he still didn't like doing it.

It was a difficult time, trying to come to grips with the thought that he had caused the death of another human being. Then again, he didn't have any proof that that was the case at all. Only Kumajiro's word.

Despite how crazy it seemed, Matthew was more than willing to believe Kumajiro, though. And, for some reason, it only seemed natural that the bear was talking to him now. After all, he had always pretended he could talk to it when he was little. Obviously he had just been filling in for the voice that Kumajiro had yet to actually develop. That was all.

But that didn't mean he liked the terrifying truth of the matter. He had killed someone. Someone his own age. Someone that he had seen every day for years. Now that person was gone. Matthew would never see him again, never have to deal with the pain and the humiliation that Miguel had always caused him. And it was all because of the notebook.

All night, the frantic Canadian had tried to figure out what exactly had caused the incident to happen. He certainly hadn't been thinking of Miguel dying in the specific way that he did when he drew the picture. But perhaps all it took was drawing a picture of someone dead for the notebook to bring that to life. Matthew didn't know for sure one way or the other.

All he did know was that he never wanted it to happen again.

His entire life, Matthew had been the sort of kid who made sure not to step on a single ant as he walked outside, keeping a careful eye on the sidewalk to make sure that none strayed into his path. And on the off chance that he _did_ happen to kill one, he was devastated for days and made sure to have a proper funeral for the little bug. He liked living things and helping them live.

Even if they didn't care about him.

But Miguel was bigger than an ant. His life had an impact on more people than any insect ever could. And Matthew was the reason he was gone.

"But he deserved it," came the sudden voice of Kumajiro from where the bear was sitting on his bed. The plush was watching Matthew with cold, glass eyes, as if weighing his worth. "He was a terrible person. And he would have only become worse as he grew older. He deserved to die for hurting you the way he did."

Matthew shook his head vehemently, the stray curl that he could never quite tame tickling his nose and causing him to sneeze suddenly and violently. Rubbing his nose, the Canadian tried to stem the flow of tears that had been unstoppable all night long. "That d-doesn't mean he deserved to die, eh," he muttered, sniffling quietly.

He had expected a response from Kumajiro, but got none. Dejected, Matthew finally crawled into his bed and fell asleep. He wouldn't be able to get away with skipping school again tomorrow. He would have to face the mistake that he had made head-on.

****

However, the hatred Matthew had expected to feel for himself never came when he walked into school the next morning. He was just as invisible as ever, and while some people expressed their regrets that Miguel had died, no one seemed overly upset about it. And, in fact, there were a number of people who were openly glad.

"The guy was an idiot," Matthew heard his brother saying during lunch. "He deserved what he got… Commie bastard."

And Matthew's day went by as it normally did, with one major change - he was not once hit, beaten up, or even threatened. It was like heaven. He no longer had to worry about going around the corners or taking a bathroom break. He was safe now…

But he was still invisible.

"Can't have everything," he muttered to himself as he walked to fifth period French class. He really liked his French class. The teacher - Mr. Bonnefoy - was actually from France and had taken a liking to Matthew early on in his high school years. Matthew was a natural at French, Mr. Bonnefoy had said, and was the star pupil of the class. It was nice to be noticed for his accomplishments, Matthew had to admit, and he had even had a small crush on the teacher for a short time.

Of course, that had caused Matthew to question everything about himself when he realized that he liked his _male_ teacher that way. The revelation finally brought Matthew to a rather startling conclusion: he could never love someone romantically. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the concept, and as much as he found Mr. Bonnefoy attractive, he knew that he didn't feel anything more than a physical attraction towards him.

Matthew nearly jumped when he heard a voice coming out of his backpack as he sat down in the classroom. "You _could _have everything, you know." It was Kumajiro again. Sighing, the Canadian pulled his stuffed bear out of the bag enough to see its face.

"What do you mean, Kuma?" he asked in confusion.

The bear stared at him blankly for a few moments before speaking again. "Just kill the people who don't pay attention to you. It's easy."

Matthew's already pale skin turned stark white. "Y-you… I can't do that, Kumajiro!" he exclaimed, a little more loudly than he had meant to. He looked around nervously, but no one was paying any attention to him… Like usual…

Swallowing, he pushed Kumajiro deeper into his bag again. "You don't know what you're talking about," he whispered to the bear before zipping the bag closed. "You're just a stuffed animal. You don't know what it's like to be human…"

Kumajiro didn't get the opportunity to respond, because at that moment Mr. Bonnefoy stepped into the classroom and began speaking rapid-fire French to them all. Within moments, Matthew was lost in the language. He loved French. It was just so much more beautiful than English could ever be.

His distraction was short-lived, though, because within moments Arthur Kirkland was speaking up loudly, complaining about how the language was boring and annoying and why did he have to learn this stupid frog-language anyway? It grated at Matthew's nerves to know that somebody who hated French so much was in this class with him. And what grated at his nerves even more was the fact that Mr. Bonnefoy paid so much attention to Arthur because of these interruptions.

It had become a daily thing for the Frenchman and the Brit to get into fights about which language was better. It started out as only being about the languages, but then it turned into a fight about their respective countries, and finally ended with Mr. Bonnefoy flirting unabashedly with a very flustered and angry Arthur.

Matthew had become invisible to his favorite teacher the moment that Arthur had joined the class.

"You should kill him."

The voice was muffled by the layer of cloth covering Kumajiro, but Matthew heard it all the same. He looked at his bag and swallowed hard. As much as he had hated killing Miguel, would it really be such a bad idea to kill Arthur too? Mr. Bonnefoy would pay attention to him again. And nobody really liked the British boy anyway. He was annoying and difficult to please. Could he really do it?

"You can. I believe in you…"

Matthew drew in a deep breath. If Kumajiro believed he could do it, then he could. Couldn't he?

Shaking, he unzipped his bag and pulled out the notebook. He didn't even know why he had brought it with him. Something about a half-formed plan to dump the burden on someone else. Or to destroy it in the school's furnace. He didn't remember. Kumajiro had been the one insisting that he bring it "just in case". Now, it seemed like fate that he had it here with him, just when he wanted to kill again…

He flipped open to the middle of the book and stared at the blank page. Slowly, he laid his pencil to the page and took a good, long, hard look at Arthur Kirkland, silently wishing him a pleasant afterlife. Then he began to draw. The picture was terrible and badly distorted because no matter how hard he tried, Matthew couldn't stop shaking. But it looked like Arthur, mostly because of the massive eyebrows Matthew made sure to add above the x-shaped eyes.

When the drawing was complete, Matthew let out a slow breath and closed the notebook, raising his eyes to watch Arthur steadily. A minute passed. Then two. And two more. Nothing happened. How long had it taken last time? Only a few seconds, if Matthew remembered correctly. He began to frown as the minutes ticked away and Mr. Bonnefoy continued to flirt with Arthur Kirkland.

The bell rang and Matthew jumped. His face turned red and he felt tears pricking at his eyes. He hadn't been the reason that Miguel died. It was just a coincidence after all. And while he should feel relieved, Matthew only felt…

Disappointed.

As the class filed out, Matthew flipped to the new picture of Arthur in his notebook, staring at it in a dejected way. It hadn't worked. And he had been so hopeful that he would be able to have Mr. Bonnefoy's attention once again. It had just been so nice to have _anyone's_ attention.

"You didn't write his name down."

Matthew straightened in his seat. That was right. On Miguel's picture, he had written the Cuban's name down. Why hadn't he thought of that? Eagerly, he reached for his pencil and scribbled the name "Arthur Kirkland" next to the picture as fast as he could. Once done, he stared at the words, panting slightly with exhilaration. It would have to work now. There was no question about it. His eyes traveled to Arthur's back as the other boy moved out of the classroom. Any moment now, he would drop dead… because of Matthew.

"Mathieu? What are you doing?" The smooth speech caught Matthew off-guard and he suddenly slammed his notebook closed, wide eyes coming to rest on Mr. Bonnefoy. His mouth fell open and he was about to respond when there was a commotion out in the hallway.

Before he could say or do anything, the French teacher ran out of the room and Matthew could hear the screams of some of the female students. In total awe, the Canadian stood and walked to the door, holding his backpack close to his chest. There, on the floor of the hallway, was Arthur Kirkland. Dead.

Matthew's lips twitched, but he fought the urge to smile. He had done it…


	4. Choice

_A/N: Weeee! New chapter is new and shiny! And full of a cliffhanger at the end! Thank you to those who have reviewed so far. It really makes this worthwhile for me. And also, once again, more thanks to my Canada, who is a constant source of inspiration._

**Disclaimer: I STILL DON'T OWN IT. Just sayin'.**

Chapter 4 - Choice

The death of Arthur Kirkland had a more pronounced effect on the school than Miguel's had, much to Matthew's dismay. Half of the school seemed to be in tears over the boy's death - even though most of them had never really liked Arthur much to begin with - and the other half were terrified out of their minds. After all, there had been two deaths within three days of each other in the school. Odd rumors that there was something in the school's water supply began to buzz around and almost overnight, every student was bringing everything they needed to ingest from home.

Even Alfred was taking Arthur's death harder than Matthew had expected. Which was strange, because Matthew could remember at least a hundred times at the dinner table when Alfred would complain loudly about how much he hated Arthur. But then again, Alfred never actually seemed to _like_ anyone…

Mostly because nobody actually really liked him either.

Matthew wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the situation himself. After the initial glee that had overtaken him at the sight of Arthur's limp body had worn off, the Canadian boy found himself in a state of distress. He had killed yet another person, and had actually enjoyed doing it. What was wrong with him? Who in their right mind would actually want to do something like that?

But that was the answer, wasn't it? He wasn't really in his right mind… was he?

For a week after that, Matthew left Kumajiro and the notebook at home when he went to school, despite the stuffed bear's protests. He was having a hard time figuring out who he was and what he wanted to do, and he certainly didn't need Kumajiro's advice when all the bear could tell him was that people should either pay attention to him or die because they didn't. It was more than a little unnerving.

Life settled back into a semblance of normalcy in that week. There were still those that wore black at school, and Matthew heard things about Arthur's family and how they were mourning, but everything else returned to how it had been. With one exception:

Mr. Bonnefoy stopped coming to school for a couple of days. And when he returned, Matthew was certain that the man smelled constantly of wine. Matthew couldn't understand why the French teacher would be so upset over the death of one of his most troubling students. And even with Arthur gone, Mr. Bonnefoy still paid no attention to Matthew, too lost in his own wine-soaked depression.

It was almost certain that things would simply continue in this same vein forever, had not someone chosen to actually notice Matthew the next week.

During second period home economics, a week after Arthur's death, Matthew was busily preparing his typical pancake batter as the teacher took role. He acknowledged his name being called with a small sound, because he knew it didn't matter how loud he was - the teacher would never notice anyway. Typically, he tuned out the chatter in the classroom around him, but suddenly there was another boy leaning over and whispering to him.

The boy's name was Lars and was from Holland, if Matthew remembered correctly. Lars was one of only a few people who ever noticed Matthew for more than half a second. And that was mostly because, during his freshman year, Matthew had managed to defend Lars from an older boy that was picking on him, resulting in much damage to himself. To thank Matthew for helping him, Lars had given the shy, heavily-beaten Canadian a bouquet of tulips from his garden at home. Matthew had been ecstatic to be recognized, and ever since then Lars had given Matthew tulips at random, still trying to thank him for his help nearly four years ago.

"Hey, Matthew," Lars was saying, and Matthew yelped and nearly fell out of his seat at the shock of being addressed so randomly and without warning. The Dutch boy raised an eyebrow and Matthew laughed nervously to show that he was listening. "I've always wondered. How come you and your brother have different last names? Don't you have the same mom?" Lars had been over to Matthew's house a couple of times - usually carrying him home after he'd been beaten up - and so knew his mother.

The subject was a sensitive one for Matthew and he chewed his lip awkwardly before finally responding as simply as he could. "We have different dads." He shrugged and looked back to his pancake mix. Lars seemed to take the hint and went back to pretending that Matthew didn't exist. For once, the Canadian was grateful.

Matthew hated talking about his and Alfred's fathers. Partly because he didn't really know either of them personally, but mostly because he knew a lot of deep dark secrets about their past with his mother. And that wasn't because he had actually ever _wanted_ to know, but more because people had this nasty tendency to talk around him about things he shouldn't hear because they didn't even realize he was there…

From what he had heard, though, Matthew knew two things for certain:

His father had been the love of his mother's life.

And Alfred had been born as the result of an incident of rape.

Matthew knew that this simple fact was the biggest reason for his animosity towards his own half-brother, but he couldn't help it. He loved his mother more than anyone else in the world. She paid attention to him and took care of him whenever he was sad or sick. She was everything to him, and Alfred had always caused her pain. Matthew hated that.

But still, Alfred _was_ his brother. And Matthew protected what was his.

It had happened a few times before in the past, when Matthew had purposely taken the blame for something that Alfred had done to get him off the hook. Or sometimes, like he had with Lars, he would protect his brother with every fiber of his being, refusing to go down until those picking on Alfred finally left. Matthew always told Alfred that this would be the last time he would protect him. But Alfred knew that was a lie.

So did Matthew.

A few days later, Matthew proved his love for his brother once again. Though, he never would have wanted for it to happen like this.

Matthew was sitting in his bedroom after school, perusing his French notes and practicing his vocabulary when he heard the front door slam open and the stomping of Alfred's feet as he stormed inside. Obviously, the younger boy was _not_ in a good mood, because he immediately began to curse as he made his way up the stairs, ignoring their mother and locking himself in his room.

Curious - and slightly worried - Matthew crept out of his room and snuck to Alfred's door to listen to his brother ranting to himself. It was a bit of a fragmented speech, but Matthew got the gist.

"Stupid Chink… can't fucking believe… no way he'll get the jump on me! … don't care what… fucking connections his family has… God damn it…"

Matthew's eyes widened and he rushed back to his room, closing the door quietly behind himself. There was only one boy in school Alfred's rant could be referring to. And that was Wang Yao. Yao's family was involved with some Asian mafia, from what Matthew had heard, and Yao liked to lend out money in his family's name. It sounded very much like Alfred had borrowed money from Yao and now the other boy was demanding that money back.

And the Wang family had a tendency to do whatever it took to get their money back.

For a full minute, Matthew just sat on his bed, trying to reason out that Alfred would be fine, his brother knew how to take care of himself. There was nothing to be worried about. But then… he also knew that Alfred was hot-headed and thought higher of himself than anyone in the world.

There was only one thing he could do. And Matthew waited for Kumajiro's voice to speak up and tell him to take that last step and pull out the notebook, but there was only silence from his stuffed bear. Matthew wished he would speak. When it was Kumajiro suggesting the decision, Matthew didn't feel as bad for choosing it. But no. Kumajiro continued to stay silent, and Matthew would have to make this choice on his own…


	5. Breaking

_A/N: Omg, it's been so long since I updated and I'm wicked sorry about that. But! Here's my next chapter! (finally...) I hope it meets expectations. I kind of wrote it on a whim after starting to rewatch Death Note today, so... XD; Enjoy guys!_****

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything, man... 

Chapter 5 - Breaking

Matthew felt numb. He was surprised that he had even managed to get to school after the night he'd had. All night, he had fretted over what he had done, glancing forlornly at the drawing in his notebook every few minutes. Had he really done the right thing by drawing Yao in the notebook? The strokes spelling out the Asian's name still seemed to dance in front of Matthew's eyes every time he closed them, and he hadn't gotten much sleep because of it.

When he arrived, though, rumors were already starting to fly everywhere. People had heard from a friend of a friend of a friend who lived near the Wang residence that Yao hadn't woken up that morning no matter how hard his family tried to wake him. The fact that Yao's younger sister, Mei, had not shown up for school either helped to spread the rumors even more rapidly.

Despite the whispers that ran through the school, it wasn't those voices that set Matthew the most on edge. It was the voice coming from his backpack every few seconds, whispering that if he had kept listening to Kumajiro none of this would have happened. "You would have been able to put a stop to this some other way, and you wouldn't have had to torture yourself. This is what you get for leaving me at home. You should never leave me at home again. Bad things happen when I'm not around."

The pauses in Kumajiro's speech were only ever temporary through the day. He even talked through the classes, driving Matthew to distraction so badly that he bumped into nearly every person he passed and dropped his pencil off of his desk no less than a dozen times.

So Matthew didn't notice he was walking right into the principal of the school until the very tall man grabbed his shoulder to stop him from walking away after Matthew had already muttered a distracted apology. As he looked up into the very intimidating face of Principal Oxenstierna, Matthew was certain that somehow this man had figured out that he was responsible for the deaths of his fellow students and he began to panic. That is, until Mr. Oxenstierna simply patted him on the head and mumbled a "Be c'reful," before simply walking away.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Matthew hurried away to French class, trying to be more careful now, even though Kumajiro was whispering urgently to him still.

Mr. Bonnefoy was still not himself and he looked on the verge of tears all through class. Matthew's mind wandered and he found himself hating the teacher he had once loved more and more with every passing second. Especially when the Frenchman took roll and choked as he almost read Arthur's name, tears brimming in his eyes.

Distracted as he was, Matthew had a hard time taking notes in class that day like he usually did. His mind was foggy, hazy, and he couldn't concentrate on anything for very long because of his exhaustion. But Mr. Bonnefoy's voice kept cracking through Kumajiro's ranting. In an attempt to block out both of them, Matthew doodled in his notebook instead of taking notes. It turned into a picture of Mr. Bonnefoy in a car being crushed by a train. Somehow, it helped to alleviate some of the burning rage he was feeling towards his teacher, and he gave the picture a subtitle. 'Mr. Francis Bonnefoy in a car crash'. He smiled a little lopsidedly at his work before shutting the notebook as the bell rang and stuffing it hurriedly into his bag again.

It was on his way to his next class that Matthew found himself apprehended by the school's counselor, Mr. Väinämöinen. After nearly running into the small man like he had Mr. Oxenstierna earlier, Matthew apologized and tried to get away, but he was too slow.

"Matthew, right?" Mr. Väinämöinen was saying, reaching out and grabbing Matthew's arm softly. "I wanted to have a little talk with you in my office." His voice was gentle, but insistent, and Matthew bit his lip lightly. He noticed a clipboard in Mr. Väinämöinen's hand and realized the man only knew his name because of the papers attached there.

"I… I don't know, sir, I really should be… um… Well, I have class, and…"

Mr. Väinämöinen's smile was bright. "Oh don't worry. It'll only take a few minutes! Mr. Oxenstierna just wants me to have a few words with all of you, just to make sure everything's alright." Matthew's throat tightened and he heard Kumajiro warning him that this was a very bad idea. "Please? You'll be pardoned from your tardiness, I promise."

And even though Matthew really doubted that - because his teachers never acknowledged that he had a tardy slip - he couldn't say no to Mr. Väinämöinen. The man was too nice and it felt much too rude to just blow him off.

So he followed the counselor back to his office and sat down awkwardly in the hard chair and clutched his bag to his chest in much the same way that he often clutched Kumajiro to his chest. "S-so… what's this about, eh?" he asked after a few moments of silence in which Mr. Väinämöinen made sure Matthew was perfectly comfortable.

The counselor smiled a little sadly and folded his hands in front of himself. "Well, lately there's been a lot of students… um… suffering from…"

Matthew tried not to roll his eyes, but they seemed to roll of their own accord. "I know kids have been dying Mr. Väinämöinen," he mumbled quietly. He only realized that Mr. Väinämöinen had actually heard him when he noticed that the counselor was suddenly silent. Matthew's head jerked up and he was on the verge of apologizing when the counselor smiled softly and held up a hand.

"That's exactly it, thank you, um…" He looked at his clipboard and Matthew's fingers tightened in rage around his bag. "Matthew. Mr. Oxenstierna is worried that this might be affecting the rest of you so he's asked me to sit down with everyone one by one and make sure that everything's okay." He looked up again and tried smiling again, seeming to hope that Matthew would stop feeling so awkward. "He said he saw you in the hallways earlier today and that you looked very distressed, that's why I've called you in sooner rather than later."

Honestly, Matthew wasn't sure if the thought was touching or terrifying. What if they had realized what he was doing? Kumajiro urged him to pull out the notebook right away, and Matthew tried desperately to ignore him and come up with a convincing lie.

"O-oh. Um, that's… that's because I didn't sleep very well last night," he mumbled, looking down awkwardly. "I studied too hard for… for one of my tests. I was worried about it…" He never could lie to people's faces, and though what he had said was partially the truth, he knew that it was still a lie and it hurt him to tell it.

"I see." Mr. Väinämöinen took down a note and then smiled across the desk at Matthew. "You really shouldn't work so hard." He glanced at his clipboard. "I see you're an excellent student with great grades. Don't worry so much, you'll be out of here soon enough!"

"Um… th-thank you," Matthew muttered. Kumajiro's voice was getting louder and the Canadian was having a very hard time hearing anything but the urge to kill someone. "Can… can I go now then?"

Mr. Väinämöinen shuffled a few papers and then nodded. "If you see your brother, could you tell him to come see me as well? Thank you… um… Matthew."

His heart beating frantically in his ears, Matthew got up - perhaps a little too quickly - and darted for the door. He was angry at the encounter, terrified that someone would figure out his secret, and annoyed to breaking by Kumajiro's shouts from his bag as he dashed down the hallways in an attempt to get to the boy's bathroom. He figured it was best that he find somewhere to calm down a little before he actually headed to class.

When he turned the corner that led to the bathroom, Matthew found himself suddenly running into someone. Again. This time it was a Polish boy - Feliks - that Matthew had sometimes talked to, but never frequently. The boy stumbled and then puffed up a little. "Like, watch where you're going!" he said hotly. Matthew ducked his head and tried to go around Feliks as he apologized and made an excuse about needing to get to the bathroom quickly.

It was as he was walking away that he heard Feliks' parting comment. "And, like, oh my gawd, what are you, like, wearing? It looks like you're, like, some sort of lumberjack or something!"

In that moment, Matthew saw red. He had been on edge all day. His nerves were stretched to a breaking point, and Kumajiro was still telling him to kill practically everyone he saw. In a fit of rage, Matthew slammed the bathroom door behind him and yanked the notebook out of his bag. It only took a few moments to draw the little figure and write Feliks' name in the book and a delighted smile spread over the Canadian's face as Kumajiro congratulated him on finally doing what he had wanted to do all day.

"I'm sick of people making fun of me," Matthew muttered as he shut himself into a stall. "They can't make fun of me anymore. I won't let them." He smiled to himself as he pulled Kumajiro out of his bag and sat there silently until he heard the frantic shouting and screams of the people who had just found the body.


End file.
